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'To 'Pavfowa 

By Doucf/asMiffocS 



J 



TO PAVI.OWA 


BY 


DOUGLAS MALLOCH 


Illustrated with photographs by 


Schnieder, Berlin, and Harris, London 


1913-1914 


New York 


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CI,A355570 



Dedication 



To Anna Pavlowa 
The Incomparable 



Across the Greening Grasses 

ACROSS the greening grasses, 
Across the lovely lawn, 
A dancing spirit passes, 

A daughter of the dawn. 
A sun-ray running after 

Attends her flying feet. 
And all the world is laughter. 
And all the sky is sweet. 

She flits among the roses. 

And to her faery art 
The blushing bud discloses 

The secret of its heart. 
The birds of heaven follow, 

The mating birds above. 
And ev'ry happy swallow 

Is singing of his love. 

Who art thou, merry comer. 

Who art thou, faery queen.? 
Art thou the soul of Summer 

That turns the world to green.? 
Who thus the bird entrances 

And bids the buds arise? — 
Pavlowa of the dances 

A daughter of the skies! 




Claude Harris, London 



Pavlowa, All Nations Are Thine 

pAVLOWA, all nations are thine, 

No country thy country alone. 
Terpsichore who shall confine? 

Has genius a land or a zone? 

You have danced at the foot of a throne; 
RepubHcs have worshipped your shrine — 
Pavlowa, all nations are thine, 

No country thy country alone. 

Pavlowa, O dancer divine. 

Thou art not one woman alone. 
For thou art all women — the wine 

That all of life's lovers have known. 

The love in thy eyes that has shone 
Another has looked into mine — 
Pavlowa, O dancer divine. 

Thou art not one woman alone. 



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Schnieder, Berlin 



There is the Spirit of the Out-of-Doors 

^ I ^HERE is the spirit of the out-of-doors 

In all your art, Pavlowa. Into halls 
Cold with gray marble and mosaic floors, 

Amid the gloomy grandeur of great walls. 
You have come flitting like a ray of sun. 

You have come winging like a mountain bird — 
Until we saw the merry rivers run 

And all the forest melodies we heard. 

Stage, walls, roofs, all our architecture, fade 

Before a magic terpsichorean; 
The mating birds are singing in the glade. 

We hear the music of the pipes of Pan. 
We float in silence down a quiet stream, 

In stormy passions we are caught and whirled- 
Yea, by the wonder of a dancing dream. 

We wander with you through another world. 




Schnieder, Berlii 



She Poises Like a Panting Bird 

CHE poises like a panting bird 

Suspended on the edge of things, 
A messenger that waits the word 
To voyage upward on her wings 

Where sister swallows flutter by. 
The air above is music-stirred, 

The world about is singing mirth, 

Until we wonder if the earth 

Or sky supernal gave her birth — 

This creature of both earth and sky. 




Schnieder, Berlin 



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Pavlowa Clad In Furs 

pAVLOWA, clad in furs, 
Looks sweetly up to me, 

Looks languidly from eyes, 
From changing eyes of hers 
Oft lit with revelry. 

Now calm and weary-wise. 



Here is a beauty new; 

Here quiet gentleness 

Does genuis new disclose 
Pavlowa, watching you. 

We find you none the less 
As graceful in repose. 




Schnleder, Berlin 



Pavlowa of the Twinkling Toes 

pAVLOWA of the twinkling toes, 

I have seen others match your art — 
A sun-ray dancing on the snows, 
A humming-bird beside a rose, 

The mountain forest's springing dart, 
A ripple on a Summer sea, 

A leaf a-flutter in the trees. 
As near to Nature, faery-free 
As your own self have seemed to be — 

And only these. 




Scbnieder, Berlin 



Now Dance for Me the Bacchanale 

'VTOW dance for me the Bacchanale, 

Pavlowa, Bacchus' airy sprite, 
And we shall tread the fields of folly 

Through purple gardens of delight. 
However mad your merry measure, 

However amorous your sighs, 
Wherever lies the path of pleasure 

There I shall follow with my eyes. 




Schnieder, Berlin 



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In Some Greek Garden Long Ago 

TN some Greek garden long ago 

A sad-sweet maiden marvelled long 
That rosy roads must turn to snow 

And Winter still the Summer's song. 
"And what were all the gods," she said, 

"If one could keep the love of men ? 
The bliss of Heaven if the dead 

Might come returning here again ? 
For I would longer live,'' she cried, 

"In some new shape, in some new soul!" 
Then in her stated time she died; 

And still the stated seasons roll. 



And yet, Pavlowa, here it seemed 
I saw the maiden seated so; 

Pavlowa, was it you that dreamed 
In some Greek garden long ago? 




Claude Harris, Londc 



OCT 24 1913 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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